The 5 Times Cas and Dean Just Slept together & the 1 Time They Didn't
by EnchiladaDan
Summary: Cas and Dean share a bed, with various consequences. Series spoilers. One-shot. Warning: Adult content.


Author's note: Warning - Contains adult content.

The first time it happened was after Jimmy died. With his "batteries drained," Cas was nearly a human. He couldn't fly because it took too much out of him, but he knew he'd heal in time. "Dude, maybe you should lie down. You don't look so hot."

"Dean, I was in a coma. I very much doubt that _more_ sleep will help."

"Well, how does an _angel_ recharge then? Because this is how people do." As if to illustrate, he kicked off his boots and stood up, pulling the sheets and blankets out from their tucked-in position on his queen bed. He shrugged off his over-shirt, and tossed it at his duffel bag. He drew the blanket back and sat on the sheet, pulling off his socks. Sam, meanwhile, took this opportunity of their squabbling to duck into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"I… I'm not really sure. I'm sure expending no more energy than is necessary would help, however."

"Exactly what I've been _saying_." He turned his back to Cas and dropped his pants, clad only in boxer shorts and a T-shirt now. He crawled under the covers, and impatiently held the cover up. "Get in here before I change my mind." Cas closed the distance to Dean's bed, and sat down on the side of it. He took off his shoes and socks, then stood to shrug out of his trench-coat. As he drew the cover over himself, Dean felt the brush of polyester against his arm. He had been staring up at the ceiling, but now turned his eyes to look at Cas.

"_Cas._"

"Yes?"

"_Why_ are you wearing a suit to bed?"

Cas sat up, and looked down at his black suit jacket and tie. He shrugged. Dean sat up too, and sighed. "Take off the jacket and tie. Then get back into bed. Sammy and I gotta get going early tomorrow."

"Hey, don't drag _me _into this," Sam called from the bathroom, momentarily pausing his nightly flossing.

Cas did as he was told, and got back under the covers. "Okay, back to back. If I wake up and we're spooning, you're out." Dean flipped onto his side, his back facing Castiel to illustrate. He didn't think anything of sharing a bed with Cas. He'd had to share a bed with Sam when they were younger, and even now, if they were too strapped for cash, they'd crowd into a double. This was no different, as far as Dean was concerned. He reached over, and turned off his lamp, the light from the bathroom and Sam's lamp illuminating the room. Cas turned onto his side, his back facing Dean's.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodnight, Cas."

As they closed their eyes, Sam clicked off the light in the bathroom and emerged. He saw the two fully-grown men curled up away from each other, willing sleep to take them, and gave a sad smile. He hoped Cas would be better soon. With a sigh, he crawled into his own bed and clicked the lamp off.

The second time it happened was after Cas woke up at the mental hospital, after taking Sam's hell-ucinations into himself, and going catatonic. Meg called the boys, and they got him back. Cas refused to fight anymore, and he was _different_ now. He slept, he ate, he acted human… well, when he wasn't flying off to gather honey or waxing poetic about wanting a pet.

Sam and Dean settled in at Rufus' cabin. They had a big day tomorrow, if they were going to take down Dick Roman. Meg flaked out, but promised she'd be back before "show time." Dean took the only bedroom in the place – it was his turn. He'd taken the couch last night. As he stripped down, Cas knocked tentatively at the door. Dean gestured him in and Cas sat on the full bed.

"I was thinking I would take after Meg, and find somewhere to retire for the night."

"You don't gotta go anywhere, Cas," Dean said, and got into bed. He held up the covers. "There's room. Just take off your shoes." Cas nodded, still amazed Dean has forgiven him, and removed his shoes and socks. He crawled into the bed, and turned so his back was facing Dean.

"Goodnight, Cas," Dean said, turning so their backs were pressed tight against each other. Dean figured they were going to die tomorrow, so he wasn't about to begrudge his friend a bed. He settled in against his pillow and pushed all thought from his mind.

"Goodnight, Dean," Cas replied, and clicked off the lamp.

The third time it happened was in Purgatory. Dean and Benny had just found Cas, but nightfall was quickly approaching. They'd have to make camp, and head out in the morning. They found a cave and Benny did an amazing job of covering up the entrance. As the fire died down, Benny mumbled a "G'night" and curled up by the dying embers, his arm under his head as a pillow. Dean curled up too, situating himself on the makeshift bed he'd made from leaves. Cas curled up at the edge of Dean's "bed," and tried to sleep. An hour later, he woke up freezing.

"_Dean!_" he whispered into the darkness.

Dean mumbled sleepily, "What?"

"I'm cold," he replied ashamed. He didn't think he'd have to sleep here, but he was virtually powerless in this plane.

Dean sighed heavily, and muttered, "C'mere…"

Cas moved closer until he was in Dean's "bed." He pressed his front up against Dean's back, but Dean didn't back away. If he was honest with himself, he'd been freezing too. "_No_ _hugging_," Dean warned, and tucked his arm under his head. If he was being _completely_ honest with himself, he wanted to feel Cas pressed up against him, cold or not. He didn't know why yet, but it didn't seem wrong.

"Yes, Dean," Cas agreed, suddenly warm enough to sleep. He could feel himself nodding off. Benny, luckily, had stayed asleep through this.

The fourth time it happened was after Dean had gotten back from purgatory, and had found Cas again. He'd seen the angel on the side of the road, then again outside his window. By the time he actually came back, it was more than a relief: It was _right_. After the shower and shave, Dean wanted to hug the man – he was so glad to have him back. But standing up right now probably wasn't the _best_ idea. He told himself that his body was confused, that whatever he and Cas had transcended the physical. After all, he was an Angel of the Lord. It's not like even if he _wanted_ to go there, Cas would – could – respond. But he _didn't_ want to go there, so it didn't matter.

Later that night, Sam and Dean were getting ready for bed in their respective rooms. For a cabin, this place had more space than the boys were used to. Cas stood on shaky knees, holding onto a table for balance. "Cas, you okay?" Dean asked, realizing Castiel would just stand there until morning if he didn't say something.

"Purgatory weakened me," Cas repeated.

"So your juice is low. Um, all right…" He sighed, knowing Sam could hear them from the next room. "Lay down. We'll figure this out in the morning." Dean gestured to his bed, and got under the covers himself.

"Dean, that's not –"

"Come on man, I don't got all night. Coat, jacket, tie, shoes off." Cas lost the coat and shrugged out of his suit jacket, before, removing the tie. As a last-minute thought, he took off his belt and threw it on a nearby chair. Dean's eyes widened, wondering if he was going to strip down any further. He made his way to the bed and sat down, kicking off his shoes and taking off his socks. As he slid into bed next to Dean, Dean released the covers and clicked off the light. Dean was starting to realize his feelings for Cas weren't exactly platonic, but he pushed it down, knowing nothing would ever come of it. After all, _an angel and a human was a sin. _

Cas let out a little sigh of relief as he settled in, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time.

Dean woke up, like clockwork, four hours later. He looked over at the clock, and realized it would be another two hours before Sam was awake. He was about to get out of bed and shower when he noticed the dark head pressed close to his chest. Their lower bodies weren't touching, which is why he probably hadn't noticed at first. He looked down at the man, a small smile playing over his lips. This was probably going to freak Cas out.

"Cas!" he whispered.

Cas' eyes popped open immediately, and he looked up at Dean. "Yes?"

"_You okay?_"

"I… think I had a nightmare. Which shouldn't be possible, but I had flashbacks to Purgatory. I was afraid. Is this making you uncomfortable?"

"No, you're okay. Go back to sleep, Cas." Dean decided at that second that Cas needed him and anyone else could fuck off. He breathed out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas responded, letting his lids flutter shut. He waited until Cas' breathing evened out before he slid out of bed for a shower.

The fifth time it happened was after the angels fell. Sam and Dean had found Cas, and they were back at the Men of Letters bunker. Zeke had just told Dean that Cas couldn't stay, but Dean pleaded. "It's the middle of the night. At least let him stay 'til sunrise, man. He doesn't even know where he is."

The angel assented, to Dean's surprise. Later that night, Dean set him up in a room next to his. The two had had a few glasses of whiskey to commiserate about the shitty situation, but eventually Cas had said goodnight. Understandably, after Cas had told him he was going to turn in, Dean kept knocking 'em back. So Dean sat on his bed alone, drinking and staring at the wall between their rooms. There _had_ to be a way around this…

A while had passed, and he heard a quiet knock at the door. "Come in," he called out, looking at the clock – it was two in the morning. The doorknob turned and Cas walked in, then shut the door behind him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Dean. Although, I am glad I didn't wake you." He took in the man's reddened eyes, the empty glass in his hand, and the nearly empty fifth on the nightstand.

"I was just about to turn in. What's up?" He put the glass down and began unbuttoning his flannel.

"I don't mean to overstay my welcome any more than I already have, but my room is very cold. I think the heating must not connect. Is there… another room I could sleep in?"

"Kevin's in the only other room with a bed…" He sighed heavily, making up his mind.

"Fuck it, just sleep here. It's too late for me to move your bed into another room." He expected Cas to reject the offer. He hadn't fully explained to Cas _why_ he had to leave the bunker, just that he did.

To his surprise Cas replied, "Thank you, Dean. That's very kind." Cas unzipped his maroon hoodie and sat down on the bed, peeling his socks off. As Dean absentmindedly removed his pants, Cas asked, "Do you mind if I take off my pants? It's very warm in here." He asked timidly, as if he was afraid Dean would kick him out for the very suggestion. But Dean was drunk by this point and really couldn't give a fuck about how this would look. He muttered a "sure" and got into bed. Cas joined him soon after, and they turned over, back to back again. Dean snapped off the light, and they settled into sleep.

Dean woke up an hour later, which is what usually happened when he tried to kill a fifth by himself. He looked at the clock, and saw it was a little after three. Suddenly, he became very aware of Cas' presence. Dean was laying on his back on the bed, knees splayed outwards. One of Cas' legs was draped over Dean's and although he held onto the pillow with his hands, still clearly asleep, he was moving. Or rather, he was _grinding_. Cas' groin was pressed against Dean's thigh, and he was groaning in his sleep. He thought he heard a whimpered _"Dean"_ amongst the noises.

Stunned, Dean lay there for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. He knew he _should _wake Cas up, lecture him about personal space, and throw him into the den with a blanket. But Dean didn't feel like doing that. Maybe it was because of the way that Cas still shivered from cold, and Dean was a drunken furnace at night. Maybe it was because Cas was _human_ now, and that was something amazing in itself; if he was human, it would make sense that he'd have urges. He could talk to Cas about it the way he had to with Sam when he'd gone through puberty. Maybe it was because Dean didn't mind Cas touching him like this, even if he didn't know he was doing it. _That's it,_ he told himself. _He's sleeping, he doesn't know any better._

So Dean focused on keeping his breathing even and as his eyes got used to the dark, he could see the man's face more clearly. Cas was panting, his hips rolling more insistently, the friction rougher. He let out small moans in between heavy breaths and soon, he was on the edge. Dean could tell because the small wet spot on his fly had grown warm again, had grown a little as he brushed up against him. His breath shuddered, and his body went suddenly still. Dean felt the wet spot grow as Cas groaned again. He'd been watching Cas the entire time, but the feeling of Cas cumming against him had him looking down. He felt his own cock straining against his fly, and he took a deep breath to relax. When he looked back up to Cas' face, Cas was staring at him with wide eyes. Dean started, and put an arm out to touch Cas' shoulder.

"It's okay," he soothed, trying to urge the frightened expression to leave those blue eyes. "You were asleep – it's not your fault." Cas slowly nodded, still looking like he was going to make a break for it.

Dean sighed, and said, "Just clean yourself up in the bathroom. You can borrow a pair of my shorts from the dresser. Then come back to sleep – I'm not mad."

"You're not?" he asked, incredulous.

"No, man, this kind of thing happens. It's not a big deal. I'm going back to bed, okay?"

"Okay… Thank you, Dean." Cas got up, and Dean heard him rifling though his dresser until he found a pair of boxers.

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it." When Cas left for the bathroom, Dean reached into his underwear, and flipped his hard cock up against his waistband. He was _really_ glad he'd left his T-shirt on. To be on the safe side, he flipped onto his stomach, so Cas wouldn't see anything. He waited, ears pricked to the smallest sounds in the dark until Cas came back in.

As he slid under the covers, he asked, "Dean?" Dean didn't answer, pretending to be asleep. When it became clear Dean wasn't going to respond, Cas whispered, "Goodnight," and scooted in as close as he could without the two touching. Dean was radiating heat, and it felt nice to be beside him. Cas breathed a sigh of contentment, trying hard not to think about tomorrow as sleep pulled him under again.

The last time it happened was after the botched date / baby-sitting thing Cas had been on. Nora's house was actually _pretty_ _far_ from the Gas-N-Sip: 'it's a good thing she's a manager,' Cas mused. As Dean and Cas drove away in the impala, Dean heard the radio announcer say, "And that was our 'midnight melody', by Deep Purple. Next up is Meatloaf's 'Paradise by the Dashboard Lights'." Dean turned the radio to another station explaining, "That song sucks."

Cas just nodded, still jarred from his experience with Ephraim. He looked out the window, the soft shadows of trees and houses passing by in the dark. Dean turned the radio knob expertly and caught the beginning riffs of a Pink Floyd song. "Good enough," he muttered, driving on. When it became clear that the Gas-N-Sip was still a good ways away, Dean asked, "Mind if we stop for the night? I need my four hours."

Cas nodded, eyes turned to Dean for the first time since they'd gotten in the car. He held Dean's eyes for a moment, the truth of the Rit Zien's words stinging. Luckily, Dean soon pulled into a motel parking lot, and Cas was drawn from his thoughts.

After securing a room, Dean slapped his hands against the passenger side window, startling Castiel. Cas noticed with consternation that as a human, he was very easily startled. He scowled, following Dean to the room. When they got inside, Cas stopped in his tracks: as Dean latched the door behind them, Cas stared at the California King in the middle of the room. "This is the only room they had left that wasn't a single," Dean apologized, and shrugged out of his green jacket. He unbuttoned his over-shirt and tossed it on the chair crowded around the small table near the door. He sat on the edge of the bed, and as he unlaced his boots said, "It's not ideal, but it's not like we've never slept in the same bed. And _I'm_ exhausted, so it's either this or the floor for you." Dean shrugged, clearly drained from the day.

He kicked off his boots and socks before pulling off his shirt. It was nearing summer and the air conditioner didn't seem to work in this room, so as he shed his pants and crawled into bed, he thought nothing of his increased state of undress. Cas sighed, his thoughts still on Nora.

How could he have interpreted that conversation _so_ incorrectly? How was he supposed to continue as a human if it was clear to the Rit Zien how unhappy he was, and if he couldn't even understand mating protocol?

He sat on the chair with Dean's clothing thrown haphazardly onto it. He kicked his shoes off and tore his socks from his feet, before his hands went to his button-down. He slowly unbuttoned it, and shrugged out of the garment, glad to be free of the scratchy cotton. He unbuckled his belt and as the pants crumpled around his feet, he stood up. He walked toward the bed, clad only in a pair of white boxer shorts.

Dean swallowed harshly, realizing this was the most naked they'd ever been. He turned so his back faced Cas and clicked the lamp off, willing himself not to turn around. Cas turned his back to Dean, and settled down on the far edge of the bed. Dean breathed a sigh of relief – this bed was big enough that they didn't even have to touch. _It's better this way_, Dean told himself. He quickly drifted off to sleep.

The stifling heat, however, soon woke him up. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, they widened: Dean had turned over and gravitated closer to the center of the bed, probably due to the slight dip in the middle of it. Cas had fallen back towards the center too, and had stretched out along his side. None of this is what had drawn his attention. What _had_ was the fact that they were spooning. And if that wasn't bad enough, Dean was hard. He had pressed in tight against Cas' back, his cock pressed against the cleft of his ass. Dean had slung his arm over Cas' stomach, his hand dangling dangerously close to Cas' cock.

He held his breath for a second, listening. Cas' breathing was even and deep – he was still sleeping. Dean shifted his head from the pillow, peeking over Cas' shoulder: his shorts were tented, too. Dean lay back against the pillow, and took a second to think, allowing himself more optimism than seemed possible.

_Maybe Cas wants this too. He's human… maybe he _feels_ it now, maybe he –_

"Dean?" Cas asked confused as his eyes took in Dean's arm over him and realized what the feeling was against his backside. Shocked from his reverie, Dean quickly removed his arm.

"Shit, I'm sorry Cas. I woke up and we were like this and –"

Dean turned onto his back, losing the contact that his body ached for, and was about to turn around again when Cas said, "Dean, stop."

He froze where he was on the bed, still painfully aware of his erection as he turned to meet Castiel's gaze. The moon was high outside and the curtains were thin, allowing him to _just _take in the features of the other man's face. His expression was kind, if a little confused. "The way we were sleeping," he began, searching Dean's face for any clue to the answer, "did you enjoy it?"

Dean swallowed hard, and his eyes darted away. "I, uh… yeah. Yeah, it – it felt nice." He wanted to say more: He wanted to say, _I don't usually spoon with my friends._ Wanted to say, _Please don't hate me._ To say, _I want you._ But he didn't say any of this and it hung heavily in the air.

Cas stared at him appraisingly for a while, and then spoke hesitantly: "If you're so inclined, I would like to continue. We don't _have _to sleep," he added suggestively.

Dean felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. Slowly he nodded and shifted back onto his side. He snaked one arm underneath Cas' neck so it wouldn't be squashed in between them. As he pressed himself flush against Cas' back, he mimicked his earlier position. As his other arm moved over Cas' hip towards his erection, Dean could hear his hitched breath. He settled his head near Cas' neck, and pressed a soft kiss to his nape. Cas let out a soft shudder, which quickly became a quiet moan as Dean reached his hand into the waistband of Cas' boxers.

Neither spoke as Dean moved his hand down, his fingertips brushing Cas' cock before cupping his balls. He pulled down on them gently and Cas' breath hitched again, focused on the feeling of Dean's fingers brushing along his perineum. As his grip relaxed, he removed his hand and grabbed hold of Cas' waistband. He began to ease Cas' shorts down and Cas shifted, making the job easier. Cas reached down, pushing them off the rest of the way when Dean could no longer reach. As he kicked out of them, Dean took the opportunity to pull his own underwear down. He kicked out of them and Cas settled back against him. When he felt the press of Dean's naked body against his he pushed back into the feeling, his hand seeking Dean's in the darkness. When he found it he pulled it towards him, Dean's calloused fingers skating over smooth skin on the way down. He released Dean's hand right before it touched his cock, and Dean closed the distance, taking it in his hand. His grip on Cas was loose, unsure. He took a deep breath to collect himself, the warm exhalation hitting Cas' neck. As Cas shivered under the feeling, his hips keened forward weakly in a silent plea. Dean tightened his grip and began stroking.

Dean's breathing grew shallow again, listening to the quiet sounds beginning to escape from Cas' mouth. It was mostly heavy breathing, punctuated by the odd shudder or groan. As if the reality of touching another cock wasn't enough, Dean was struck again by the newness of the territory in the near-silence. Even the quietest girls he had been with still gave him a sexy little moan here and there. He'd just have to work harder here…

The experience itself wasn't what got Castiel. He had a rough understanding of sex by this point, and didn't have any of the gender-based hang-ups Dean had. But as he trembled under Dean's touch, wanting more but not trusting himself to ask for it, his heart raced. He wondered if Dean was effected in the same way, or if he was separating affection from sex like he'd done so many times before. His hands gripped the sheets, and he rolled his hips backwards, earning a soft moan from Dean. This, _this _he could do…

Dean bucked forwards, the leaking pre-cum from his cock slicking the way a little as he continued to rut against Cas. He moved his arm out from under Cas and leaned up on his elbow to give him a better gauge of Cas' reactions. He leaned his head down, and dragged his lips along Cas' neck, his nose nuzzling under the stubbled chin. Cas moaned suddenly, the vibration reaching Dean's lips and making them tingle. Dean's cock gave a twitch of interest at the proceedings.

"Turn over," Dean rasped out, and waited until Cas was facing him. As his hand went back to Cas' cock he asked, "Does this feel good?" He rubbed his thumb over the slit, smearing pre-cum along the dark pink head.

"_Yes,_" Cas breathed, reaching out to brush his fingers along Dean's cheek. Dean scooted closer, and met Cas' eyes. He stroked slowly now, gaze fixed on Cas' face as he watched him. Dean licked his lips nervously, and Cas' eyes were drawn to the sight, his cock leaking a fresh bead of pre-cum. Cas knew he was getting close, but he didn't want it to be over. He took a deep breath to steady himself and met Dean's eyes again. His heart pounding so furiously he could hear it in his ears, Cas' hand moved to the back of Dean's neck, his fingers splaying through his hair, and pressed his lips to Dean's.

Dean didn't recover until the kiss was already over. He met Cas' nervous gaze and nodded, before he dove back in. As his lips caught Cas' again, Cas' breath caught in his throat. The minor shock over, Dean began to stroke in earnest, plying Cas' lips with kisses. Cas relaxed into the feeling, and Dean's tongue gently caressed his own.

Cas kissed back more insistently, his hands now both carding through Dean's hair. Just as suddenly as Cas had relaxed a moment before, his muscles suddenly went rigid. As he kissed into Dean's mouth needily, Dean could feel him spilling over his hand. He stroked him through it, drawing back to watch Cas' face as he came. The pulsing of his cock finally stopped and Dean let go, rubbing his hand on the sheet.

He looked down at the mess, then back up at Dean. He didn't say anything, just pressed close for another kiss. When it ended, he pushed against Dean's shoulder until he was lying on his back. Cas crawled in between his legs, his hands cupping Dean's face. He leaned forward to kiss him, the wet press of his spent cock brushing against Dean's inner thigh. His breath hitched, realizing how close he had gotten from just kissing. Cas' hands moved from his face down the sides of his neck to his shoulders. As he leaned back, Dean felt the drag of the cock against his skin on its way to the sheets beneath him. His breath caught again, and he could feel his cock twitching against his stomach.

As Cas trailed his hands down his arms, he said sadly, "I wish I hadn't healed my mark on you." Dean looked down to where Cas was gripping his shoulder, and then back up at the man.

"I don't need a scar to show me how profound our bond is," he replied, still smiling at how funny the phrase was in his mouth. Cas smiled at the response, and his hands continued their exploration of his skin. As they brushed over his nipples, Dean gave a gasp. He had forgotten how good that felt.

Cas lowered his head down, and kissed at one small bud, then the other. When he added small licks to the kisses, Dean's head pressed back against the pillow, moaning. Cas brought his head up and kissed along Dean's neck as his fingers reached up, pinching the erect nubs between his fingertips. Dean groaned at the sensation, bucking up. His hips meant only empty air, Cas' back curled up in such a way that only his hands and mouth touched Dean's body.

Dean was nearly crying with frustration. He was _so_ close, but wasn't quite there. As Cas' fingertips dipped lower, brushing over Dean's stomach, his mouth went back to Dean's nipple and sucked, drawing a rough groan from the blonde. Cas moved to the other, his hands rounding over Dean's hipbones. Each bud flushed dark and spit-slicked, he eased off, his lips surging back up to Dean's neck. As he pressed his lips against the pulse point, Cas' hands made their way down Dean's thighs, before reaching inward.

Cas nuzzled against Dean's neck, opening his mouth to lick along the sensitive skin there. Dean let out a shudder, and Cas' hands made their way up his groin. Right before he reached out to grab it, his teeth scraped against Dean's skin and bit down. As he sucked and laved on Dean's skin, he pressed forward, parting Dean's legs further. As he drew off, his hot breath puffed against the wet skin and it drew a shiver of need from Dean. Cas' hand reached down, his fingertips brushing against Dean's perineum, and a spark went off behind Dean's eyes.

Dean's orgasm hit him like a truck: his hands fisted the covers, and he bucked up, his pulsing cock managing to make contact with Cas' stomach. As came onto his stomach and chest, his eyes went wide, seeking Cas'. Their gaze met just as Dean was coming down, but the sight caused his cock to twitch one final time: Cas' pupils were blown, his hair was messy, and the look he was giving Dean… Dean couldn't place it, but he never wanted it to end. As the last bit of his release leaked out, Cas' eyes were drawn down and he licked his lips. He reached down and finally wrapped a hand around his cock. A pulse coursed through Dean and the feeling was verging on pain, he was so oversensitive now. A small noise escaped his lips that seemed to get this through to Cas, because he reluctantly let go. Dean wanted to tell him to touch more, to touch as long as he wanted. He'd white-knuckle it, _just don't ever stop_.

They seemed frozen in their positions, staring into each other's eyes. Eventually, the uncomfortable feeling of cold cum on his stomach made him shift. He leaned over the bed and brought his dirty T-shirt up, and wiped them both clean. After that, they settled back into position, Dean spooning Cas.

"Cas?" Dean asked, throat suddenly dry.

"Dean?" he responded, realizing it had been awhile since they'd spoken.

"I meant what I said earlier, about our bond…"

"I know, Dean," he replied, finding his hand in the darkness, and drawing Dean's arm over himself. "I feel the same way."

Dean smiled against the pillow, his gaze focused on the brown hair in front of him. He didn't want to think about tomorrow, and how it would interfere with everything that had happened tonight. So instead, he just said "Goodnight, Cas."

Cas' thoughts had gone to the next day as well, but he pulled himself from them. His lids fluttered shut, and he concentrated on the feeling of Dean's arms around him. "Goodnight, Dean."


End file.
